


Braver Soldier

by PunkPinkPower



Category: Power Rangers Samurai
Genre: Boys Kissing, Canonical Character Death, Committed Relationship, Culture Shock, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I assumed a lot of things for this, M/M, Things I never thought I'd assume, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 02:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkPinkPower/pseuds/PunkPinkPower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something in Ji had changed, softened in the presence of his Shiba Lord, and after he had gone all the softness had gone out of him, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Braver Soldier

Ji had spent a very long time learning everything there was to know about training Samurai. He was a master in several techniques by the time he came of age, knew the rules of his order inside and out, and was deemed ready to take over caring for the Lord Shiba by the time he was twenty. 

It’s a great honor, to be granted the privilege of serving the highest Lord in his order, and Ji treats it as such, makes his arrangements and is prepared to give the rest of his life to a man he has never met so that the threat of the Nighlock may be prevailed upon for another hundred years. 

It’s the way he’s been brought up. 

Which is why it’s sort of a shock, when he arrives at the Shiba house for the first time, to find out that the young man with the sloppy blonde hair and the rough leather jacket who is playing guitar loud enough to wake the dead, is his Lord Shiba, his life’s work and only ambition. 

He’d expected someone a little more… well… traditional, to say the least. 

Not some kid who calls him “Bud” and spends more time working on his motorcycle than training and _wears his shoes in the house_. 

Ji’s mother had once told him that life was a series of tests designed to make one ready for the next test. 

His Lord Shiba is certainly his greatest test thus far. 

***

“You have got to lighten up, Ji,” his Lord says the first week Ji’s there, hopping up onto the kitchen counter and staring at Ji quizzically. 

“What do you mean, my Lord?” Ji asks, holding his hands in front of him, clasped, his stance as relaxed as it ever is. 

“Alright, you’ve got to quit it with this ‘my Lord’ stuff,” Lord Shiba says, rolling his eyes and hopping down from the counter, “I have a name. It’s Alan. Please use it.” 

Ji frowns, but nods. “I will try, my Lord.” 

Lord Shiba gives him a pointed look. “What about you? What can I call you other than Ji?” 

Ji makes as respectful of a face as he can. “Ji is my name.” 

Lord Shiba frowns, tilts his head. “Really? Because my last mentor was named Ji, too.” 

Ji nods. “My father,” Ji says, wonders why the master of his order wouldn’t know something as simple as his servant’s lineage, “He served your father and yourself for many years.” 

Lord Shiba nods, like he’s connecting the dots. “Yeah, he lightened up after a couple years,” he says, slapping Ji on the shoulder, hard. “You do spar, though, right?” 

Ji lifts his head. “I have been well prepared to aid you in your training.” 

“Great,” Lord Shiba says, grinning, “Let’s see what you’ve got!” 

The one thing Ji cannot fault his Lord Shiba on is his skill in battle. Never has Ji witnessed a more natural swordsman, a more graceful technique, a more fearsome attack than that of the Lord he is sworn to serve, and it restores at least a little bit of his faith in his duty. 

Afterwards, Lord Shiba wipes his face off with a towel, and tells him, “You’re not bad, Ji.” 

“Thank you, my Lord,” Ji says, offering his Lord a bow, “May I wash your feet before you go into the house?” 

His Lord Shiba looks at him like he’s crazy. “I- what? No!” 

Ji frowns. “It is customary for the-”

“Ji, no,” Lord Shiba says, holding up his hand, “It is absolutely not customary here. Look, you’re not in Japan anymore, we do things differently here. I do things differently here. And I swear, if you call me ‘my Lord’ one more time, I’m going to stop speaking to you.” 

***

Lord Shiba stops speaking to him. 

He tries, truly tries to use Lord Shiba’s preferred, informal name. But each time he opens his mouth, he cannot force the casual name to drop from his lips. 

He has been taught that formality is of the utmost importance in his relationships with his Lord’s that hold power, both Shiba and the other clans. It keeps the balance, keeps things the way they ought to be, and to call Lord Shiba as he wishes to be called, by the name of a common man, feels alien and like a strange form of betrayal. 

Did his father call Lord Shiba’s father by his common name? Ji very much doubts it, but Lord Shiba insists that his father had “lightened up” during his time here. 

Ji had not seen his father since he was very young. He had been raised by his mother and his brothers and his clan. It was the Shiba way. Ji’s family had served Lord Shiba’s family for generations, and would, if necessary, do it for many, many more. 

Traditions had to be preserved, or all would give in to chaos! 

Still, it makes his life rather difficult that Lord Shiba refuses to speak to him. In fact, he ignores him completely. 

If Ji calls out a training technique, his Lord Shiba will purposely do the opposite of Ji’s suggestion. When Ji attempts to serve Lord Shiba dinner, Lord Shiba will serve himself, and clean up after himself, despite Ji’s objections. Lord Shiba not only doesn’t take his shoes off in the house, he wears them to bed, too. 

His Lord Shiba is a stubborn one, indeed. 

“Lord Shiba,” Ji tries again, in the library where Lord Shiba is flipping idly through a book when he should be studying his techniques, “It would be beneficial to you to-”

“Lion zord,” Lord Shiba says loudly, speaking to his folding zord on the desk, “Do you hear something? I thought I heard something.”

The little folding zord makes a tiny noise of agreement. 

Ji sighs heavily. He looks around, even though he knows they are the only two people in this house, and clears his throat. He opens his mouth to form the word on his lips, tries it once, stops, and finally says, “My Lord Alan.” 

His Lord Shiba looks over at him for the first time in two weeks. He raises his eyebrows. 

Ji sighs more heavily. “Just Alan, then.” 

Lord Shiba smiles. “You are a very stubborn man, Ji.” 

Ji grinds his teeth, but is unable to keep the words, “You are the stubborn one!” from leaving his lips. “I’m sorry,” he follows with immediately, “That was insolent.” 

Lord Shiba laughs at him. “No, I’m stubborn, I’m very, very stubborn,” he agrees, and he looks very, very fond as he studies Ji. 

It makes him uncomfortable. 

“You know what, for using my name, I’m going to reward you,” Lord Shiba says, standing up and coming towards Ji, “And not just with talking to you again.”

“That isn’t necessary,” Ji begins, but Alan is already pushing him out of the library. 

“Oh, yes,” Alan says, grinning in a way that makes Ji concerned, “It absolutely is necessary.”

Which is how Ji goes for his first ride on a motorcycle, clinging to his Lord Shiba for dear life and wondering how he’s supposed to survive the next twenty years.

***

Alan buys him tie-dyed pajama’s. 

Ji stares at the gift on his bed, wrapped up in a red silk ribbon, and narrows his eyes. 

_Chaos_ , he thinks, reaching out to touch the soft fabric, _absolute chaos_. 

***

Living with and training with his Lord Shiba requires a lot of compromises and deal making. Alan will debate samurai ethics and history with Ji all night, but only if Ji will put on “normal clothes” and accompany Alan to the cinema. Alan will practice his symbol power, but only if Ji will try a cheeseburger. Alan will spend two days building his own practice swords to understand the forms, but only if Ji will agree to spend an equal amount of time learning the mechanics of a motorcycle. 

To be honest, Ji quite likes the mechanics of the motorcycle. He’s less fond of riding it, and his Lord Shiba seems to want to ride it everywhere they go, but working on the engine, polishing the shiny black metal, cleaning the tires, these things all come naturally to Ji and he doesn’t mind learning about them. Especially when Alan laughs and talks about it for hours with a passion that clearly burns bright. 

The compromises keep them going. It isn’t as though Alan doesn’t want to train or do his sworn duty; he just seems to be equally fond of pushing Ji out of his comfort zone as he is of doing anything productive. 

“I don’t wanna,” Alan pouts one morning from his bed when Ji insists they complete a 5 mile run. 

“If you complete the run, I will not complain about the volume of your instrument,” Ji tries, and Alan snorts. 

“You’ve got to do better than that,” Alan says, pulling his pillow over his head to shut Ji out. 

Ji grabs onto the corner of the pillow and tugs politely. “If you complete the run, I will not criticize your choice of music played on said instrument,” Ji tries again, and Alan laughs from under his pillow, turns over and burrows deeper into his covers. 

“Either you agree to strum a few chords or I’m going back to sleep,” Alan says, his voice muffled by the sheets. 

“You are a petulant child,” Ji tells him matter-of-factly. 

“And you are my ill-tempered babysitter,” Alan agrees easily, making gentle snoring noises. 

“Very well,” he agrees with a much abused sigh, and Alan uncovers and climbs out of bed with ease. 

Ji shakes his head at him disapprovingly, to which his Lord Shiba only sticks his tongue out. 

They are halfway through their run through the woods when Alan insists they stop to stretch, and Ji agrees. 

He’s stretching his arm over his head when he finds Alan has stopped stretching to watch him. Before he can reprimand him, Alan is opening his own mouth. 

“I will let you out of our earlier deal about the guitar if you will stand still for thirty seconds, give or take a few,” Alan says, stepping towards him. 

Ji narrows his eyes. “Is there a catch?” He wonders, putting his arm down. 

“Absolutely,” Alan says, smirking, “But it’s this or two hours of loud guitar music.” 

Ji makes a face, but he nods. 

Alan steps closer to him, just a touch too close, and Ji would step back, only he’s promised not to move. But when Alan’s face leans in next to his, his lips brushing against Ji’s, he reacts on instinct and steps back, his eyes wide. 

Alan clears his throat, looks a little annoyed as he straightens. “You didn’t stay still,” he says, shrugging, and then he starts running down their path again. 

Ji stands there, knowing he should follow. But that was… that was…

What was that? 

***

Ji learns to play the guitar. 

It… he doesn’t compromise for it, since he moved. He just let’s Alan swing the strap over him, and show him how to hold his fingers, and if Ji notices the way Alan’s eyelashes flutter against his cheek every time he plucks down on a chord, then Ji reasons he’s just doing his sworn duty to pay attention to his Lord. 

***

Ji meets the other members of the Samurai clans at a spring picnic Alan insists on holding at the Shiba house. It’s not unusual for the Rangers to know and train with each other before active duty, but Ji hadn’t been aware that they socialized in such a manor. 

He addresses them all as Lord and Lady, refusing to let his casual demeanor with Alan affect his relations with the other Samurai, and they all give him adoring looks, like his old world habits are to be cherished and given a light pat on the head. Perhaps he is the only one still clinging to the old ways here. 

It is a very different world, after all. 

***

Sometimes, very rarely, Alan will stay up all night training. 

There’s a fire in him that Ji can’t pin down, something his aloof and playful nature hides, and he is both truly mesmerizing and truly terrifying when he gets that way. 

Ji, out of both obligation and friendship, sits with him all night, watching his training practice on the mats, relighting the torches when they go out, and offering Alan water when he needs it. 

Alan sits down beside him on the porch after one particularly grueling night, and says, “You don’t have to stay with me all night. I can relight the torches myself if I need to. You should sleep.” 

Ji stares at Alan’s profile. “I do not stay simply to relight the torches. I stay because I have made a solemn vow to help you, in any way I can, and I do not think I could reconcile leaving you alone at times like this with my conscience.” 

Alan stares ahead, watching the sun coming up in the distance. “Ji, don’t make any more vows to me,” Alan orders, his voice hard, “Ever.”

Ji hesitates. Wouldn’t vowing not to make a vow be, in fact, a vow? Was this one of Alan’s clever tricks? 

“You deserve a lot better than being my servant, Ji,” Alan says, looking over at him, “A lot better.” 

Ji stares back at him, and shakes his head. “I am honored to serve you,” he says, and he means it, “But I will not make you any more vows if that is what you wish.” 

“It is,” Alan repeats, and when he sees Ji nod, he nods in return. “Good,” he says, and he collapses over, dropping his head into Ji’s lap and resting there, completely exhausted. 

Ji brings his hand to rest on top of Alan’s head lightly, and they stay there while the birds sing in the morning. 

***

If his family and masters could see him now, Ji imagines they wouldn’t be very pleased. 

Alan has changed him. He’s… there’s something that only Alan is capable of bringing out in him, a softness, a tenderness that Ji hadn’t known he had within himself. 

He isn’t supposed to have it, that’s the point. Ji had been trained to keep his distance, to serve, to protect, to give up his wants and needs in favor of serving the greater good, of making his Lord the best warrior he could be, so that generations of other peoples families could live happy, normal lives. It was who he was at the core, it was who his people were. 

Ji was born into his role, just as Alan was born into his role of accepting and wielding the Samurai powers. 

There never had been much choice for Ji. He had been told from an early age what his life would be, and he had accepted it because he was told to. He had given up what normalcy some of his siblings or cousins might experience so that he could continue his family’s sworn duty, and he had never really questioned it. It was what they did. 

Now, though, Ji thinks as he watches Lord Shiba, he thinks he would choose this life, too, if he were ever given the choice. 

But there had never been much choice for Ji. 

***

It’s a cold, foggy day in winter when Alan tells him. 

He’s sitting at the little table in the kitchen, the one they share their dinners at because Alan refuses to eat alone while Ji eats in a separate room, and he’s holding onto a cup of tea Ji has made him without drinking it. 

Ji stands at the kitchen sink, his apron on over his hakama, polishing the silverware. 

“They want me to get married,” Alan says from his spot at the table, where he’s holding his tea, staring into it as though it holds all the answers to the universe. 

Ji pauses, a spoon stuck between the cloth in his hands, and looks over at him. 

“Everyone else is getting married,” Alan elaborates slowly, shrugging, “So I should get married, too.” 

Ji watches him for a long moment, before he looks away and continues polishing the spoon. “To whom?” 

“I don’t think it matters,” Alan says with a small laugh, “Anyone, probably.”

Ji continues polishing the spoon between his fingers, turns back to the sink without answering. There are many things he’s been trained to do. Supporting Lord Shiba in his family life is one of them, and Ji has always known that task and responsibility would fall on him. Helping to raise the children, training them, keeping them safe, and abiding by the wishes of the future Lady Shiba. It feels funny, then, that there should be such a pang in his heart at the idea of a Lady Shiba existing. 

Alan has taught him to do many things since he’s been here, things he was never prepared for. Working on a motorcycle, riding one, playing guitar, using informal names… Ji has even learned, on occasion, to speak his mind, and he feels the words bubbling up inside him as he stands there, polishing a hole in the spoon. 

He sets it aside, puts the cloth on the counter and turns, staring at his Lord Shiba and wondering if this is something he should keep inside. 

Only he can’t. 

“I don’t want you to marry anyone,” Ji confesses at last, in such a quiet voice he isn’t sure Alan will hear him. 

He does, and his eyes snap up and lock with Ji’s across the room. Ji resists the urge to drop his gaze obediently, holds it, and when Alan stands, Ji still keeps from looking away. 

Even when Alan walks across the kitchen and places both hands on Ji’s face, Ji manages to hold his gaze until the last possible moment, until Alan’s lips are upon his, until he closes his eyes to live in the moment, his own stained and calloused hands gripping Alan’s arms tightly. 

Alan kisses him, and Ji forgets about the silverware and the rules and his duty and his honor. He only feels the pounding of his heart and the softness that has grown within him, at the core of him, where all his duty and vows to his Lord Shiba were supposed to be. Alan has replaced those things with something else entirely. 

Alan doesn’t get married. 

***

The Nighlocks finally break through to their world in the Fall of the next year. 

Alan insists he can handle it, that there isn’t any need to call the others just yet. And Ji, ever loyal, abides by his wishes. 

He treats injury after injury, begins to really understand his role in Alan’s life as mentor and caretaker, and he takes the weight of him when Alan can no longer carry it. 

Ji finally calls the other rangers after a particularly bad battle in which Alan’s symbol power had not been enough to turn back the Nighlocks. 

He sends out the call while Alan sits out on the porch, refusing to be touched or cleaned up. His beautiful blonde hair is singed, his face covered in soot and smoke. His hands are burnt and black, and while he must be in some pain, he doesn’t seem to feel it through his haze of defeat. 

The Nighlock threat is greater than any they have ever faced, and far greater than Alan or Ji had anticipated. And, Alan tells him, it will only get worse. 

“I wanted to have children,” he admits, his scorched face turning bitter, his burnt hands coming up to rub over his face, “And I will, probably. I have to. But I wanted to see them grow up. I wanted to help them learn how to ride bikes and read stories and play guitar. But that isn’t going to happen, is it Ji?” 

Ji walks forward and takes the blanket off the back of the chair Alan sits in, drapes it gently over Alan shoulders. “It still might.” 

Alan shakes his head slowly. “I wanted to be the one who ended it. I didn’t want to put all this on the next generation. It’s one thing for me not to make it… how can I bring kids into this world knowing what they’ll face?” 

“Alan,” Ji says, and he brings a hand up to Alan’s shoulder, grasps it firmly, “I promise you, no matter what happens, I will protect and care for your children as long as I am breathing. They won’t face it alone.” 

Alan huffs, looks up and over at Ji beside him, a wry look crossing his face. “Thought I told you not to make me any more vows, Ji.”

“It’s not a vow,” Ji says, grinning too, “It’s a promise. That’s different.” 

Alan smiles at him, like he disagrees slightly, but he doesn’t argue. He sits up just enough to bring one charcoaled hand off his knee and to Ji’s face, and in the fading twilight he presses their lips together, invades Ji’s space and his life and his thoughts and dreams, and makes Ji feel like more than just a servant, makes him feel like the most important person in the world. 

Alan kisses him, and Ji kisses back, and the sun goes down around them, leaving their love to be only in the darkness. 

***

“You want to do what?” 

Alan grins, like this is exactly the reaction he’s expected. “I’m changing my name, my last name, so that it’s actually Shiba.” 

Ji frowns, puzzled. “But you carry the title,” he says, shaking his head, “It is neither necessary or appropriate to-”

“I want my last name to be the same as yours,” Alan says over him, stopping Ji in his tracks, “And I want my children’s last name to be the same as yours.” 

Ji folds his arms in front of himself, waiting for Alan to elaborate. 

“We both know I’m not making it out of this, Ji,” Alan whispers after a short while, and Ji sighs. 

“I wish you wouldn’t say that,” he says for probably the hundredth time. 

“I just want you to be prepared,” Alan says, offering Ji a tiny smile, “And I want you to be able to keep your promise. Having the same last name, signing the paper’s I gave you once the child is born,” Alan gestures, and Ji nods, “It’ll make that easier.” 

“What are you going to name her?” Ji wonders, thinking of the child growing in their surrogate’s womb. 

“I don’t know,” Alan admits, grinning. “I’ve thought about naming her after my mother, but Petunia is a hell of a name to inflict on a child.” 

Ji purses his lips. He doesn’t want to laugh right now. It’s not funny. They’re being serious. 

“What was your mother’s name?” Alan wonders, and Ji shoots him a look. Alan holds up his hands, “I’m just curious.” 

“Lau,” Ji says, watching the way Alan nods and glaring. “Alan,” he warns. 

Alan just smirks. “I’ll add it to the list.” 

***

Alan almost gets away with naming their daughter Lau-ren, but Ji insists he take the dash out, give her a western name, and Ji must compromise with Alan that he will choose the name of their son, when he is born only a year later. 

***

Ji does his best to fulfill his promise. 

He raises Alan’s children after he’s gone, spends every waking moment caring for Jayden and every sleepless night worrying about Lauren in some far off place.

He had promised they would not face it alone, and in that at least, he will be right. In the end, if everything works out, they will have each other, and if Ji is lucky, he will be there to see it. 

Ji thinks he could have done this better before Alan. He could have survived it better, if it hadn’t been for Alan and the way he had loved him. 

Something in Ji had changed, softened in the presence of his Shiba Lord, and after he had gone all the softness had gone out of him, too. 

Ji had to be hard now, for Jayden, for the boy who was, in all legal ways, his son, and who would never know his father the way Ji had. He had to be hard for Lauren, for the day she returned with questions and the power to defeat the Nighlock. 

And even so… not a day goes by that Ji doesn’t think of his Shiba Lord, and long for the softness he found in him. 

It isn’t there, though, not anymore. No, Ji must go on, must struggle forward with the next generation, as his father before him and his father before him and his father before him. That cycle was now broken, too. His children would not be servant of the Shiba Lords. His children were the Shiba Lords, and centuries of tradition would end with them. 

If he was lucky, his children would survive and live long lives and be happy, and that was the vow he had made at the very beginning, wasn’t it? To protect and serve the Shiba Lord’s, for all his life. 

He could be brave for Lauren. He could be brave for Jayden. 

He would be brave for Alan, his Shiba Lord, until the very end.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Importance of Utilizing Proper Signage](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2115939) by [Tsukino_Akume](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsukino_Akume/pseuds/Tsukino_Akume)




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